


Sign Along the Dotted Line

by babyblueglasses



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Self-Destruction, Unhealthy Relationships, terrible life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyblueglasses/pseuds/babyblueglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki sets out to right the disappointments of his past by striking a deal with a wish-granting demon at any cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The woods were lonely, shadow-slicked and fathomless. Night had descended hours ago, and still, the looming pines glowed with an ethereal green-blue, whispering the way. He kept his footfalls steady along the winding path. He pulled the long mossy green cape around him closer, concealing his face. 

He had been chasing rumors for eight months now. A guess here, a winding story there. Tonight he was following a lead that promised, as so many did, that there was a devil at the end of it. 

Devil being what the young traveler had called it. Savior was what Loki hoped to call it. 

There were tales of supernatural beings that could grant wishes of any scale, with proper payment. In brighter days he’d brushed the stories away, but if the failures of the past years had taught him anything, it was that he should assume nothing. Not his parentage, his heritage, his birthright. 

He would find a means to correct that. 

Damn the payment.

 

A few dark hours passed in the woods, revealing nothing but the path ahead and the occasional whisper of wind through the pines. There was a chill on the night air. It startled him to hear a low bird call in the distance. He spun around, scanning the gloomy tree line. He suspected an ambush. Standing still, he held his breath. When nothing happened he had little choice but to press on. 

And as he did, he began to hear more. A murmur in his ear, a high-pitched laugh. They had no source. 

The voices got louder and more frequent the closer he came to the heart of the woods. He could make out just one string of words, one bemused, compassionless voice. “You’re certain,” it whispered breathily. Loki pulled the cape in around his face, paying it no mind. 

There was a light in the distance, and he had every intention of finding its source. 

 

The small, ornate building was not what he had expected. It was taller than it was wide, and had a sharply angled roof with several chimneys. Composed entirely of iron and glass, it glowed from a blue light within. He wiped his elegant black boots on the doormat, placing his pale hand on the doorknocker. 

“Yeah, yeah,” a voice answered. 

It surprised Loki, how informal the voice was. Immediately he was disappointed. There was no way that such a voice could have the power he was seeking. Just as he took his hand from the door to leave, it swung open. 

Loki felt his eyes widen in surprise. The instant he saw the man, Loki knew he was deceptively different. The man glared, unimpressed, at the stranger. His eyes were a deep, dark brown laced with some unsettling quality that said they knew everything at a glance. He wore only an embellished robe, and made it abundantly clear that he had been interrupted. The man sized up the being on the other side of the door: tall, lean, hungry green eyes. He grinned. “You’ve come to make a deal.” 

Loki swallowed, evaluating the man. “I only make deals with those that can fulfill what I seek.” 

“And that you think you can cheat,” the man said plainly. “I should warn you. Any deal you make with me can not be broken.” He stared at Loki in a way that slunk down his spine, making it evident that there were no threats to be made against him. He pushed the door open, leaving it ajar for Loki to follow him. 

Loki crossed the doorframe, lowering his cape. There was a blue fire in the far corner of the room, accompanied by long black leather couches. Gears, odd machines, and peculiar metals were showcased around the room, lending the space an eerily threatening undertone. All along the room there were long dark shadows, cast into every space the light of the fire did not touch. 

The man sat comfortably into an armchair by the fire, grinning as he rested his arms along the armrests. The v in his robe stretched open, revealing a gnarled scar along his breastbone. He gestured for Loki to sit on one of the couches. He picked up a glass, watching the light catch on the alcohol as he turned the rim. “I would offer you some but I prefer my clients to be perfectly sober when they sign their souls away.” 

Loki snorted quietly. Tony aggressively glanced up at him. “You will not find it so funny when you come back to my doorstep, begging me to return your soul, and I say no.” 

“So,” he said. “What have you come to ask for?” He took a long drink, appearing uninterested in the answer. 

“I want what is rightfully mine,” Loki said. 

Tony set the glass down, raising an eyebrow. “You’re here for something that already belongs to you, huh,” he said, keeping his eyes on the amber liquid. 

“What was taken from me,” Loki said, his voice vile. 

“Do be more specific.” 

“I want the throne of Asgard. I want to be freed of this wretched form, I want my so called brother to trouble me no more, and I want everyone to recognize me as their king.” 

“Is that all?” 

“Is that not equivalent to a soul?” 

Tony grinned unkindly, tilting the glass in his hands. The firelight caught along his face, casting half in shadow. “It’s cheap actually.” He took a drink.

“Do you mock me?” Loki said unkindly. He had not traveled for months for this. 

“I already know you’re going to make the deal,” Tony said, taking another drink. “What would be the point in mocking you?” He looked over at Loki fully for the first time since he’d sat down. Despite his self-righteous anger, Loki still felt unsettled by the man’s piercing stare. There was certainly something supernatural about him. Though, unsettling as it was, that had been what he was seeking after all. “This is the only time in the course of this that I will speak to you,” Tony said. 

Loki raised his brow, uncertain. “I won’t care to afterwards,” Tony explained. “So if you have questions, now is the time to ask.” 

Loki leaned forward, bringing his hands together. “If I let you consume my soul, you’ll grant what I ask?” 

“That is how this works,” Tony said bluntly. 

“For any period of time?” 

“As long as your natural life span allows for,” Tony said. “Unless you’re seeking a different contract,” he said, grinning wickedly. Loki found his eyes wandering towards those sharp teeth. 

Loki quieted, considering the man. He felt an unearthly pull towards him, something sinister and beautiful. “Why do you care to consume a soul?” 

“Why do you care to throw it away?” Tony countered, his attention back on the glass in his hand. 

“I fail to see why I should care about such a childish concept. I die at the end of this whether I get what I want or not, so what’s the harm in bargaining something like a soul to get exactly what I do want?” 

Loki saw no visible change in the man, but the mood in the room darkened perceptibly, sinking right to the pit of his stomach. Loki felt a wash of his own fear as he felt anger, excitement, lust, and a mild note of pity emanate from the man. “And so you don’t think it matters,” Tony said. “I’ve heard it a thousand times before.” He took another drink. “You really should consider this carefully.” 

“I did not come seeking your advice,” Loki said arrogantly. He was unaware of his hand undoing the clip at the throat of his cape. “Why do you care to argue anyone out of making a deal with you?” 

He stared closely at Tony as the cape fell down around his shoulders. He was sitting tall with his back straight on the sofa, eager to perceive something past the man’s peculiar aura. The man leaned back into his chair, taking another drink. “So that when the time comes I can say I told you so.” 

Loki crossed his arms against his chest. This man might have an extraordinary ability, but he did not have extraordinary insight. Taking the throne of Asgard, the realm that had far more strength and privilege than any other realm---that was true power. Why this man would content himself with consuming souls when he could rule Asgard, and through that, the remaining realms---in short, Loki found him to be an imbecile. He was eager to get on with the deal and to rid himself of the quest that had swallowed eight months of his life. 

At the same time he found himself looking for an excuse to prolong his exposure to the intoxicating pull slipping off the man. “Tell me, what is the appeal of a soul?” 

“That,” Tony said, “is something that only my kind know.” 

Loki sneered, unimpressed. 

“Fine. They’re delicious,” Tony said simply. “And worth the wait. Like a wine.” He set his glass down to refill it. “And like I said, it’s something that only my kind can understand.” 

“How do I know that you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?” Loki asked. He was feeling impatient again.

“I will only fulfill what you ask for in the contract,” Tony said. “No more. No amends can be made once it is enacted. And, at the end of your life, you will see me for the second and final time.” 

“And if I am not satisfied with your end of the contract?” Loki asked. 

Loki felt anger snap through him the instant Tony understood the words. It curled and snared inside Loki like a terrible dream. He recognized it as not his own, and felt a foreboding wave of fear for the second time that night. 

“I always come through on my contracts,” Tony said. Loki reached to undo the clasp at his cape and was surprised to find it already undone. 

“What other wishes have you granted?” Loki asked. 

“My credentials,” Tony said with a half-smile. “Well,” he said, picking up his newly refilled glass, “I’ve granted ever lasting youth and beauty, cured the sick, satisfied unrequited loves, granted power, money, fame, the usual.” He scratched at his neck. “You are hardly unusual.” 

Loki took offence to that, but smoothed it over with his impatience. He needed to stop entertaining this man and make the deal already. 

“Fine. If you grant my wishes you may have my soul,” Loki said. He waited uncomfortably for a response. Tony looked at him for the second time that evening, and again Loki felt that deep, dark cut. This man’s eyes were articulate and savage. They gave Loki the sense that he was getting in far over his head, but the throne of Asgard loomed just beyond this creature, and he would make the deal at any cost. 

“Are there any further questions?” Tony asked. 

“None,” Loki said. “I wish to make the deal.” At once he felt a flood of bloodlust and ferocity and eagerness wash over him from the man. Tony leaned forward in his chair, grinning darkly. Loki held out his hand to shake. Tony ignored it.

Standing from his chair, Tony’s deep purple robe brushed back from his knees as he stepped forward, standing before the green eyed being. He slipped his hand beneath Loki’s chin and in the split second that Loki snarled something vile he felt a wash of Tony’s sinister persuasion. It soothed him, strangely, just enough that when Tony titled his head up to look at him he was curious. 

There’d been something alluring about the man since the moment he’d stepped in, and despite his impatience, Loki could not prevent himself from recognizing it in the man now. At eyelevel was his scarred sternum, layered with twisting, raised lines of skin, almost as though the heart had been ripped out. He found himself wondering how those scars would feel beneath his fingertips, how the man’s chest would shake with desperate breaths… 

He glanced up to meet Tony’s eyes, watching him with assured, knowing intent. Loki parted his lips. He felt his warm breath pass between his open lips as he considered his next lines. The firm thumb holding up his chin stroked once, slowly against his jawbone. 

“You may call me Stark,” Tony said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darkest timeline, terrible choices.

“You may call me Stark,” Tony said with a deviant smirk. “If the mood strikes you.” He grinned, tilting Loki’s chin in a purely clinical way, evaluating something within his steady wide eyes. Loki imagined that the man was considering how his soul would taste, or how long it would be before he could collect it.

Loki was both relieved and sorry when those fingers slipped away. 

“There are two ways to do this,” Tony said, stepping back towards the fire. He turned from Loki, leaving him to watch his backside as he stared down into the blue flames. “One,” Tony said, picking up something from the mantle above the fire, “involves your blood.” He turned around, holding a dagger beside his face. He glanced at the silver blade with something not unlike love. Gently tracing it along his own face he said to Loki, “I don’t think that I have to tell you that you will not be getting it back.” 

Loki watched as Tony’s attention returned to the blade, his eyes half-closed and delighted. He admired the tactic in the man, and while he would certainly file it away as a method to use against his enemies some day, it definitely was not helping him now. Loki did not enjoy the obvious delight that Tony took in the blade. “The other,” Tony said, pressing the blade’s tip to his finger, “is a bit more carnal.” 

“I take it that the later method involves me stripped bare?” Loki said, critically watching the other to see how his words hit their mark. He pointedly ignored the heat his own words sent down his abdomen. He wanted to tempt the man. Tony set the blade back down on the mantle. He returned to watching the fire. 

“Yes,” Tony said. 

“Is that the more favored choice between the two?” Loki asked, crossing his leg over his knee and leaning his arms back over the couch. 

“Only marginally,” Tony said. He turned back over his shoulder so that Loki could see his face. “And that’s only because I am so wonderfully adept.” He returned his attention to the fire. 

Loki turned his head away, taking in the odd mechanics around them. The light caught in dull patches along the twisted metals. His heart beat faster in his constricted chest. He did not like the idea of that Stark coming with that blade anywhere near him. He imagined that the end result would leave some mark or impression behind on his perfect skin, and he would not have that. 

“What a strange way to seal a contract,” Loki remarked. 

“It is not a kind magic,” Tony said. He knew the direction this would take, had known it since Loki had appeared at the door. All that was left for him was to wait, and that was something he was perfectly content to do. Enjoyed doing, actually. 

Loki ran his tongue along his teeth, considering as he felt his sharp incisors cut against his own flesh. Did he want Stark? Oh yes. He just could not decide if it was beneath him. 

If Tony was the creature that he had been seeking, and on every account it certainly seemed that Tony was, Loki knew that he was dealing with something otherworldly and dangerous. They were ferocious and precise beings, blessed with inhuman beauty and uncanny premonition. They had a very different sense of mercy and pleasure. They were also, if the more salacious rumors were true, _enjoyable_.

Loki’s eyes wandered along the shoulders of Tony’s robe. The lush purple did little to disguise the sculpted expanse of flesh and bone beneath. He would concede that the man was a bit shorter in stature than he preferred, but the peculiar wave of excess emotion rolling off him was more than enough to make up for it. There was something sickly sinister about the man, and deeply alluring. That was his intrigue and his thrill. How far and how dangerous he could get?

Loki admired the glossy black coat on his fingernails. In choosing the second option, he could not see a part of the deal that did not suit him. He would be getting everything that he wanted, _that he deserved_ , and quick gratification to seal the event in exchange for what? A soul? He did not think highly of the Aesir’s Helheim or Valhalla or Folkvangr. He doubted that it was even possible for him to continue to such a place. 

Perhaps Stark would complete the deal only to find at the end of it that there was nothing to collect at all. 

Loki took one final evaluative glance at the man. Stark had such power and yet he only had the sight to use it to procure souls. Loki found that contemptible, but was not above using it to his advantage. 

In short, he found Stark to be an idiot. 

“I do hope that you live up to your image of yourself,” Loki said. Tony turned away from the fire, his dark eyes gleaming. 

“I take it you chose the second option then,” Tony said. 

“Yes.” Loki turned away, appearing bored. “Don’t make me regret it.” Tony took a step towards him, and at once Loki was wondering where the flood of borrowed emotion was. He wanted to feel fear curl around him as the man’s desires overcame him. Instead Tony was very, very still. 

He crossed the room slowly, each footfall striking Loki’s ears with crystal clarity. 

“I will be calling the shots,” Tony said, taking Loki’s jaw in his hand again. “And you will be gracious.” 

Ah, there it was. The first wave of imperious lust. And something different, Loki noted as Tony watched his eyes dilate wide and black. Not a speck of green was left. 

“Now how was it that you put your words?” Tony asked, releasing Loki. He stepped back, and with a jolt Loki realized that Stark was waiting for him to repeat his earlier words. He licked his upper lip, glaring at Stark. Tony took a few steps back to the fireside and leaned his arm against the mantle. He waited. 

Loki brought his hand to his throat, only to find that he’d completely forgotten that he had already undone the clasp on his cape. And worse, his hand was fucking trembling. He saw Stark’s gaze linger on the shaking fingers. “You may change your mind about your choice,” Tony said. 

Loki stood, the cape falling down around him on the floor. “I am firm in my decision,” he snapped, embarrassed. His mind may not have been fully caught up, but his body and soul knew the self-destructive trap they were ensnaring themselves in. They trembled. He flexed his fingers irritably, brushing the sensation off. He did not want Stark thinking him weak.

“I believe my words,” Loki said, stepping onto his cape, “involved me stripped bare.” He ripped the leather cord from his shirt with a loud hiss, challenging Tony. The cord fell to the floor in a snake-like coil. Stark half-smiled, not moving from the fireside. Loki felt a mild wave of interest curl towards him. 

He slipped his feet from his black leather boots, tossing them aside. His eyes were locked on Stark. Unmoving, sinister Stark. Without the roll of emotion, Loki found Stark impossible to read. He pulled his shirt up in one slow, detached motion, his eyes never leaving Stark. He dropped the shirt on the floor beside his boots. He knew the firelight would slip in along his sculpted stomach, casting shadows into the dipping molds of muscle. He knew he was a sight to behold, knew the firelight would only do him favors. He would use it to the same effect that Stark used his knife.

Loki glanced down, feigning boredom as he traced one long finger down the trail of coarse hair leading away from his belly button. His straight, dark hair fell over his shoulder, half-obscuring his face. “How did you get that scar?” He asked.

Loki curled his finger back up along the trail. He watched the flickering light glint on his nail as he waited for Stark to answer. 

“A deal,” Tony said. The sharp sizzle of emotion that rollicked off him was snipped short, like he was trying to conceal it. Loki looked up to see that Stark was only staring off into a corner of the room. 

“A deal,” Loki said, treading along his cape to stand before Tony. Stark faced Loki with collected cockiness. The soon-to-be king would not be ignored. Loki reached up his hand, faintly tracing his fingers over just the tip of the raised skin. His eyes narrowed. “For your…heart?” 

“Very good,” Tony said, grabbing a fistful of Loki’s hair. The strands tugged painfully at his scalp. Loki twisted his head to the side to ease it, staring at Tony. He felt his chest rise in a heavy breath. Now that Loki was this close, he could see that Stark’s eyes weren’t round in the pupils, but narrow, like a cat’s. Even in the low light his eyes kept their thin, slatted focus. “But that’s not a story for you to hear,” Stark said in a low, whispering breath. Loki rested his hand stubbornly against the scar. 

Tony took a step forward, causing Loki’s footing to falter on the cape as it slid against the smooth floor. He struggled to right himself, leaning further into Stark’s unwavering hand. Tony grinned. 

Stark’s free hand sharply snapped the buckle at Loki’s trousers. He released his hold on Loki’s hair so that the god could rush to rid himself of the remaining clothing. _Yes, rush,_ Stark thought. Loki was far more eager to win Tony’s approval than he was aware of as he tossed his garments to the side and looked at Stark like he was gasping in another breath of air. Tony ramped up the wave of lust emanating from him so that he could watch Loki’s lips unconsciously part. 

The god was so intent on keeping his careless image that he was completely unaware of how obviously he was focused on impressing Stark. Tony found that intriguing, if not a little amusing. 

He was unimpressed with the stranger’s quest for power. Loki was shortsighted and desperate in Tony’s evaluation. Throwing away an eternity for a fleeting lifetime of empty power was no prize by Tony’s standards. 

In short, he found Loki to be an idiot. 

He was striking though, as long as Tony didn’t look into his desperate eyes for too long. He enjoyed that desperation, but for different purposes. 

Loki’s hand was at his chest again, his fingers slipping beneath Tony’s robe to slowly circle a hard nipple. Tony grabbed his wrist and directed it down, dragging Loki’s fingertips just within reach of the soft robe before pressing it to tied belt. He grinned rewardingly when that hand forcefully yanked the belt undone in one swift tug. 

The plush belt was cast thoughtlessly onto the floor by Loki’s impatient hand. He felt his face flushing hot, heat burning up into his skin as he set eyes on Stark’s long, thick cock. Loki hesitated, and in that moment he heard Stark knowingly snicker. His fingers caught beneath Loki’s chin again, keeping his flushed face in Tony’s full view. Loki felt Stark’s teasing encouragement, taunting him on. He brushed his thumb across one of Loki’s burning cheeks. “Better put those to better use,” he muttered. 

With one sharp glance Loki slid down onto his knees, digging his fingers down domineeringly into Tony’s thighs as he did. He stared up at Tony with half-opened eyes and licked his lips once before leaning forward and taking the head into his mouth. That earned him a small hiss of appreciatively pulled breath from Stark. 

He moaned as it rubbed up against the roof of his mouth. Tony’s hands were fisting into his hair, pulling tightly. Loki bucked his hips as Tony thrust into his hot mouth, rubbing the tops of his ears encouragingly with his thumbs. Loki glanced up disparagingly at him as he brushed Loki’s bedraggled hair back from his face. “All the better to see you with my dear,” he said. He clenched at Loki’s hair a moment later when the god’s teeth nipped at him. Loki only had a second to be satisfied with Stark’s momentary panic before he felt that wave of warning crash over him. 

He pulled back, saliva trailing from his wet mouth, to fully see Stark standing over him with those serpentine eyes. Stark petted the silky hair at the top of his head, brushing his hard cock along Loki’s cheek. Loki took in a cold breath. His own erection was warm and tight, and demanding more and more of his own attention. Then there was Stark, and as much as he was enjoying the mingle of desire and self-loathing and danger, he knew that Stark was getting off on his burning cheeks and that was…new. 

He brushed his fingers along Stark’s cock and opened willingly when it was at his lips again. He hummed, closing his eyes as his tongue took pleasure in languidly sliding along the hard length in his mouth. Stark sighed as Loki’s fingers dug into his thighs again as his needy mouth came closer, hollowing his cheeks, then desperate to take him deeper. Stark watched as the god lost himself, delight slipping up into his face. 

There was a whiny moan when Stark pulled Loki back, tugging at his hair until he relented, releasing Stark’s cock from his mouth with a wet pop. A long trail of saliva sunk the bridge to Loki’s mouth, snapping to drip down Loki’s chest, shuddering with excited breath. Tony groaned as he stepped back, grinning. 

Loki watched him with something not unlike desperation. Tony gave himself a moment to enjoy it, wondering how this face would compare to the one he would wear when Tony saw him for the second and final time. 

“Lie down,” Tony demanded. 

Loki paused just a moment before lying down onto his back. His disheveled hair crowned his lustful face on the mossy green cape. There was precome on his cheeks and glossy lips, Stark noted with pleasure. He glanced at Loki’s hard cock, half hidden behind his shaking knees. 

He turned away and took a small bottle from the mantle place before returning. 

Loki closed his eyes as he heard the bottle stopper roll across the floor, tossed by Stark’s brash hand. Stark’s slicked hand caressed his thigh as it slowly wandered down from his bony knees to his warm inner thigh. He eased the leg away before setting its ankle over his shoulder. Stark watched Loki’s eyes, squeezed shut as his lip trembled. He moaned, leaning his head to the side, as Tony did the same with the other leg. Stark leaned forward, blowing his hot breath against Loki’s cheek. 

Loki felt Stark’s lips against his ear, pulling in slow breaths as the muscles in his legs bowed to Stark’s commands. He shuddered, pressing his face into Stark’s warm neck as the man’s slicked finger circled his entrance. Tony’s chest vibrated against him as he softly laughed. “Oh,” he said. “You’ve been well-practiced,” he whispered against Loki’s ear. 

Loki felt his cheeks burning hotter, knew that Stark would know it too. “How you must touch yourself all your nights alone,” he muttered, curling his middle finger in, dragging it against Loki’s prostate. Loki’s fingers grasped at his skull, sliding along his short hair. “Traveling, alone. Imagine, all those nights, longing for this,” he whispered, possessively biting Loki’s ear. “For me.” 

“How long have you looked for me?” Tony asked. Loki’s fingers scrambled to hold him as Stark pushed away. Tony pushed his thumb against Loki’s chin, waiting for an answer. He opened his eyes to see Stark’s eerie eyes studying him. 

“For your kind? Long enough,” Loki said. He felt the head of Tony’s heavy cock brush against his entrance rewardingly. He sighed as Tony’s rough thumb pulled at his swollen lip. When he glanced back up at Tony he saw that the man was staring at his cheeks, deliberately avoiding his eyes. It left his own serpentine eyes open to Loki’s gaze, and only made Loki that much more aware of the peril he was falling into. Loki shivered. “Please,” he said impatiently. 

Stark’s warm breath passed over his flushed skin. He dug his fingers into Stark’s smooth, choppy hair, letting out a needy moan that he prayed would do Stark in. “You’ll long to be fucked like this again,” Tony muttered. Loki closed his eyes, strung between the ache in his cock and the looming need for Stark to fill him. He could feel Stark’s lust as if it were his own, marked with a dark, hedonic edge. 

He let out a loud, shameless cry when Stark thrust slowly into him. Loki lost awareness of the next string of sounds that came out of his mouth as the thick cock thrust harder and faster with each whimpering sound from Loki’s mouth. Loki felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his abdomen that he leaned into, his mouth cracking into a sharp, masochistic smile. 

Stark had him at his command and Loki knew it. Stark knew it. Wanted him to know it. This would be the last time that anyone could say such a thing of Loki, and he would never tell anyone how desperately he wanted to be fucked into the floor. He opened his eyes, faltering between lust and self-loathing to see Stark’s face contorted in pleasure. Muttered a quiet “no”, unwilling to let it end but unable to do much about it. Stark heard and grinned, one sharp, vicious, knowing grin before he thrust hard for the final time. He groaned as he came, collapsing with a shudder. 

“Don’t you dare come,” he hissed at Loki, before pulling in a gasping breath. The words sent a shiver down Loki’s spine, pooling with the destructive dread he already felt. 

When Stark pulled back from him, half-grinning and flushed, he rested a hand on either of Loki’s knees. He let Loki watch him catch his breath, let him feel exposed on the floor, pulling in short breaths on his cape. His hands slid down Loki’s hipbones, avoiding the aching erection. Loki leaned his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his tense throat as his mind flooded with pleading thoughts. Tony spread his aching legs a little further apart. “Now come,” he whispered. 

And Loki felt the flood of Stark’s own dark amusement doused with his own desperation, pain, and pleasure as he came, spilling onto himself. 

Tony’s pointer finger trailed across his abdomen as Loki lay there, shuddering and gasping. He opened his lips when he felt Tony’s finger at his mouth, slick with the taste of him. 

Stark’s hands wandered along his body as Loki lay there, allowing him, not really caring what Stark did. He didn’t feel any different. He didn’t feel a rush of cosmic power, or any sign that his entire fortune had changed. He only felt Stark’s hands ghosting curiously along his skin. 

He heard Stark stand up and walk a few paces away, his feet sounding against the floor as they left the cape. Loki sat up.

Stark was putting on his robe, appearing smug and quite satisfied with himself. He walked over and grabbed the stopper from the lube bottle, returning it to its container and putting it up on the mantle. 

Then his business tone was back, insinuating nothing of what had just happened. “Dress,” he said. 

Loki was still shaking as he laced his leather boots back up, furious with his body’s trembling but deeply satisfied with its lust. Tony picked up the cape from the floor behind him. He ignored the wet patch on it as he draped it around Loki, doing the throat clasp with a detached variety of tenderness. Stark tapped his finger against the silver latch, content with his own thoughts. “A kingdom is searching for their lost king,” Stark said. “You’d better hope you can get back before they find you,” he grinned, “like this.” 

As he pulled the front door open Loki felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the night air. Stark was suddenly foreign to him, radiating mystery and vile power. He walked away from the house without a word, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *writes listening to cheerful pop music*  
> The other option would've been unpleasant and is left to interpretation. Stark should not be mistaken for a vampire.


	3. Chapter 3

He sat in front of the enormous bathroom mirror, shivering slightly and ignoring the timid knock at the door. There was a heavy chair wedged beneath the handle. Not because magic couldn’t solve the problem, but because he’d needed something to shove violently. He _couldn’t get a fucking minute_ away from these imbeciles and their incessant questions. Surely they could figure out what accent colors to use in the dining hall on their own? 

Green and gold. It was always going to be green and gold. The idiots. 

Loki leaned in closely towards the mirror to examine his eyes. He’d become obsessed since his return from the woods. At first, in the whirlwind of all that had happened, he had not noticed. Not until he had been looking at himself in a servant’s mirror. As they fitted his new attire, fussing over the seams and measurements, he had gone rigid. The eyes in his reflection were not his. 

The green had been sucked from them, leaving dry, faded rings of straw colored husks behind. No one had noticed. Or rather, no one had been close enough to him before to remember or really take note that his eyes were green, and so no one missed their absence now. 

Loki had dismissed the servants with an annoyed shout, leaving them to scurry away in fear until he called for them again. He had spent the remainder of that afternoon trying to glamour the green back in, but the color would only slip from his eyes like wet paint. 

“Your majesty,” a strained voice said from the other side of the door. 

Loki hissed a hateful epithet under his breath. He turned back to the mirror. He could hear the servant flustering outside the door, presumably pissing themselves over whether they should leave or persist. He drummed his fingers against the cold tile. “The high court has reached their ruling,” the anxious voice said. “They recommend beheading. He wants to speak to you.” 

Loki stood up from the floor. The servant jumped back from the door as they heard the chair smack against the floor. 

Loki glared down at the servant from behind the half-open door. “You may bring him here,” he said. 

“Wher---“

“The throne room is sufficient,” Loki snapped. The servant rocked on their feet a second before deciding that was enough to go on. As they hurried off, Loki closed the door again. He returned to working his magic through his marked pupils in vain. 

\---  
Loki nodded at Thor’s request to dismiss the servants. If he wished to have a conversation in private, Loki would grant it, if only to show that he had the power to do so. 

“Please,” Thor said quietly. It was not desperate enough to sound like begging, and that grated on Loki’s nerves. How could he still carry dignity? “Do not let them do this. You do not have to take their recommendation.” 

“But I should,” Loki replied. “How would it look if I allowed you to stay? What would Asgard think of me? Of their royalty?” His foot twitched irritably. “For allowing a frost giant to walk not just among us, but in reach of the throne?” His voice rose unkindly. 

“Not even I knew!” Thor shouted. “And I’m sure if father were still here---“ 

“He’s not,” Loki snapped. 

“Mother and father must’ve had their reasons for keeping it secret,” Thor continued. “Surely they knew that I, that I am---“ Thor bit back his tongue. It was unspeakable, and unthinkable. He had been raised his entire life to detest the very beings that he had come from. That he was. He hadn’t been given time to process it before Asgard was upon him. “They must have had good reason,” Thor insisted. 

Loki rose up from the throne. He had a peculiar tilt to his head as he evaluated Thor. “I’ll tell you what their reason was,” he said, walking down the stairs. “Their reasoning was that father dearest,” he smiled disdainfully, “stole you. Kept you as a prize. A bargaining piece. He never loved you,” Loki said. “You were nothing but a political investment.” 

Thor glared down at the ground. He knew Loki’s boundaries. Knew that this lilt in Loki’s voice promised nothing but violence if he was provoked further. Before it wouldn’t have stopped him, but now that Loki was king… “I will not defile their memory that way,” Thor said huskily. “I remember nothing but their kindness growing up, and I will not assume things now. I know they had their reasons. I know that if they were here now they would explain.” 

“Will you really defend them?” Loki asked. “Even now, as you face death?” 

“Loki,” Thor said. “We shared the same parents. The same past. You are my brother. We have shared our entire lives together. Does that mean nothing to you?” 

“No,” Loki said. “I am not your brother. I am not one of _you_.” 

Loki remembered, of course. How things were before. He may have been the only one that did, but he knew. Thor’s loyalty to their parents disgusted him. 

“Have compassion,” Thor said. “This does not change who I am. This does not deserve punishment. It does not deserve death.” 

“I remember another day when you would gladly slaughter all of Jotunheim.” 

“That was another time. I was not the same.”

“What? Not a monster?” Loki took a few steps back from Thor. 

“I am not one now,” Thor said. He met Loki’s gaze steadily. It occurred to him that something was different about Loki, but everything was different since their parents had perished from an unexpected illness. Loki had been away on a solo hunting trip, completely unaware that he had become king. Thor brushed the observation off, worried for his own survival. 

On the same day as their parent’s death, Thor’s true heritage had been revealed in front of everyone. He had accidently come into contact with the Casket of Ancient Winters as it had been inexplicably transferred through the great hall by servants. 

“Leave,” Loki said. “Never come back. Never think of this realm again. I do not care where you go so long as you stay out of my way.” He called out for the guards to return. “Heimdall will send you on your way.” 

“Thank you,” Thor said as guards took him by the arms. There was concern in his gratitude, rather than relief. Loki’s back was turned to him. He said nothing as Thor was carried away, and did not dare to ask Heimdall where the golden haired god had gone. 

\---

 

Wealth poured into Asgard--- by diplomacy, trade, imperialism, and war. The wealthier Asgard became, the more power it consumed, and the less Loki slept. He spent hours pacing the floors and pouring over the next conquest. It made no difference, as long as it saved him from sleep. 

At night what he’d stuffed down over the past five hundred years---banishing his brother, indirectly murdering his parents---came up with a vengeance. 

He thought ridding himself of them and the painful parts of his past would bring him peace. He would be the king he was always meant to be. He had thought it would bring him happiness and satisfaction. 

One night he woke from a particularly vivid nightmare involving Thor. His brother was alone in the woods, his face smeared with black soot. Something was circling him beyond the trees, whispering excitedly. 

Stark’s serpentine eyes materialized before Loki and he woke screaming. 

He denied the dream with anger for a few minutes, tossing back and forth in the bed. He rolled over. His eyes were open wide in the dark. 

He threw the stuffy bed sheets from him and hurriedly walked down the dark corridors to Heimdall.

“I have not seen him,” Heimdall said. 

“You see all,” Loki said. Heimdall grinned wryly. 

“You know better than any that there are ways around that.” 

Loki took in a deep, shuddering breath. There were gloomy circles beneath his eyes and he had a sleep deprivation headache that had not left in years. “Find him!” Loki yelled. 

“He is beyond my sight,” Heimdall said calmly. 

Loki breathed heavily beneath stiff shoulders. “Then when was the last time you saw him?” 

“In distant, murky woods.” Heimdall said. “You know them well.” 

Loki’s heart skipped a beat. Did Heimdall mean something by that? Had he seen Loki on the day that…? Was Thor there now? 

“When?” Loki asked.

“Two weeks ago.” 

“And nothing since then?” 

“Nothing.” 

Loki turned to leave, his legs shaking. Heimdall grinned as he turned away. Loki’s unsteady feet carried him back to his bed where he lay for the rest of the night, thousands of scenarios playing out in his head.

It was the first time he admitted to himself that he missed Thor. It was the first time that he heard his remorse. 

For months Loki waited, holding his breath, for word of Thor. He was convinced that Thor was either dead or seconds from making his own deal with Stark. A deal that would undoubtedly return Thor to the throne and punish or eliminate Loki. 

Months and months of obsessing over it, tensing over the possibility, waiting for the shoe to drop…it all amounted to nothing. 

Two hundred years later, still, nothing had come. 

\----

“We have taken Jotunheim,” Sif reported. She stood before the throne, not looking up at him but at the eyelevel stairs. “We will be assessing their resources and dividing them appropriately.” 

Loki stared at Sif, biting subtly on his bottom lip. He had not seen her since assigning her to conquering the realm. She had been pleased with the prestige of the assignment. He had chosen her because she was precise and capable.

The frost on her rugged cape was melting, revealing long blade cuts across the fabric that had been hastily repaired. There was a puddle of icy water forming around her on the tiles.

She did not enjoy seeing Loki. His internal despair was obvious to her, and it made her very uncomfortable. 

“If that is all,” she said, “then I can oversee asserting Asgard’s interests. Unless you care to use my talents elsewhere. Perhaps on one of the war fronts,” she suggested. 

Loki glanced down at the melting ice. “Perhaps you could deal with that?” 

Sif turned to see a tiny golem forming from the melted snow. She crushed it with her boot just as Loki’s laugh rang through the hall. Her sharp eyes met with a guard’s as she looked up from her boot. He rolled his eyes as subtly as he could in camaraderie. 

Loki searched the uncomfortable faces of the room for a single hint of amusement. “It was a joke,” he said, blurting the words out gracelessly. Everyone instantly put on stiff smiles, pushing out a few weak laughs. Sif’s expression remained unchanged. 

“If that is all,” she said. 

“You may oversee Jotunheim’s restructuring until I call on you again,” Loki said with an empty voice. Sif bowed curtly and left, rolling her eyes sympathetically as she passed the guard. He stifled a smile. Loki abandoned mischief that day. 

\---

Loki paced the lavish palace halls by day, putting on a face that he believed himself, sometimes. His meticulously crafted appearance and arrogant mannerisms played well to his advantage. The power of the realm only grew. Loki’s sour disposition was tolerated in exchange for the wealth he brought. Publically, he was well thought of while everyone made financial gains. But Loki’s insides were hollow, held together by tape and glue. 

He turned a blind eye to his internal desolation and agony. If he cried on the rare occasion that he was drunk, everyone pretended not to notice. If he screamed and raged, it was met only by resentful silence and appeasement. He was kept at a distance and expected to continue advancing the kingdom. 

His thoughts of Stark’s return were fearful, but mingled with relief.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki could sense the presence the moment he walked into the room. Prepared, sinister, and pleased. His husk colored eyes darted rapidly about the grand bedroom, desperate to find Stark. 

He was there. Standing in the furthest corner, leaning against the wall beside a long emerald curtain. “It’s not time,” Loki said. “I am still young. I have another two thousand years, easily.” He crossed the giant room towards Stark for what seemed like an eternity. “It’s not,” Loki insisted. 

Stark just grinned. A thin, toothy grin like a knife. 

“You said it would last as long as my lifetime,” Loki said, his voice rising frantically. “You lied.” 

Stark’s self-righteous anger pierced him like an arrow. “This is your natural lifetime.” 

“Impossible,” Loki said. 

Stark leaned off of the wall and walked a few paces away from Loki as the god tried pitifully to corner him. The palace was nice, Stark would give him that. “This is your natural lifetime,” Tony said, walking out into the room. The chandelier was too tacky for his taste, but the tiled flooring was agreeable. “Your death comes today regardless of what you do.” 

“How?” Loki said, following closely behind him. 

“Murder,” Stark said, spinning back around. He grinned with lazy, relaxed eyes. They were every bit as vivid as Loki had remembered them. 

“By you?” Loki accused. 

“No,” Stark said drably. 

Stark stepped forward, cupping Loki’s face in his hands. Stark rocked the god’s spiteful face back and forth as he pouted pitifully. “I told you I wouldn’t care for a conversation the second time.” 

“Then let me offer something,” Loki said, running his hands invitingly down Stark’s hips. 

Stark scoffed, releasing his face. He took a step back from Loki, watching with eager satisfaction as desperation flooded Loki’s expression. “What’s going to happen?” Loki asked. 

Relief washed over him as Stark took another step towards him. “Well,” Tony said, slipping his hands in around Loki’s waist. “I am going to take your soul and Amora is going to murder you.” Loki’s eyes widened. “And then Sif is going to murder Amora and ascend to the throne.” Loki felt his heart thudding helplessly in his chest. 

His mind was spinning. There was so much he suddenly had to do. 

“Not to worry though,” Stark said, pulling him in close. “You won’t be around to see it.” 

It was strange. Now that Stark was here in front of him, the fight was slipping. Stark’s hands pulled at his waist and Loki was lowering himself, just enough to rest his head on Stark’s shoulder. What did it matter? 

Was Stark comforting him? He felt so light. This life had been so heavy, and Stark, Stark was fury and suns and molten metal. It was nice. He could like this Stark. Then with a jolt he remembered something. “What about Thor?” Loki asked quietly. 

He could feel Stark’s disappointment. “He made a deal,” Stark said.

Loki looked up at him with a mixture of hope and fear. 

“Not with me,” Stark said. Dissatisfaction hung heavily on his words. “Foster. Your contract couldn’t be contradicted, but soon after Sif rises to the throne Thor will join her and lend a certain legitimacy to the whole ordeal.” 

“Foster,” Stark said with a hiss. He rubbed his hand down along Loki’s hair. “Amora will be coming in just minutes,” Stark said. 

“I don’t want to go,” Loki said quietly. Another time he would’ve argued, but he could not fight the relief within him. He did not want to go, but staying, staying was little of an improvement. 

“I told you so,” Tony said. Loki hated the smugness in his eyes immensely. “Now then,” he said, leaning his forehead against Loki’s. Stark’s lips brushed along his face, seeking his lips. Tony paused. “You’re mine,” he whispered. 

Loki felt like he was falling through galaxies as vertigo slipped through him. Distantly, like sound beneath water, he heard his own voice echoing from his mouth for the last time. 

 

Stark’s home was cold from the mantle. From the narrow sliver of metal containing him, Loki could watch Stark as the being drank, watching the fire. Some days Stark would busy himself reconstructing other metals, and Loki wondered with detachment what souls were in those. Some nights, nights that were very far and few between, he would see a soul like he was once. He could never bring himself to watch. 

Yet aside from those rare nights, sometimes hundreds of years apart, he would watch Stark with a sort of familiar fondness. He was no longer bitter or angry. He was simply there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what parts you enjoyed and what worked for you.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is only available on aO3 and cannot be posted, duplicated, or copied anywhere else.


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